


Traditionally Yours

by MissWolfinger



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Gen, Gyftmas (Undertale), Making Traditions, Monsters are free, Shopping, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:20:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27764377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissWolfinger/pseuds/MissWolfinger
Summary: Edge is trying to deal with the upcoming holidays and it's not going as smoothly as he would like.
Relationships: Papyrus (underfell)/reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 16
Collections: It's Snowing Somewhere Else: An Undertale Themed Secret Santa 2020!





	Traditionally Yours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GenericTomatoPaste](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenericTomatoPaste/gifts).



He was in the store again. This time he was staring at tinsel, holding up a rope of it in his hands with as much scrutiny as one would give a newly excavated relic. 

It became a normal occurrence to see him on your shift, his eyes wide not with wonder but with something that looked more akin to frustration. To his credit, he was a monster and it wasn't uncommon to see monsters in the store in various states of uncertainty or confusion whenever a human holiday came around. To anyone who didn’t grow up with all the fanfare and hullabaloo, you could certainly understand how Christmans, of all the holidays, were pretty much a grab bag of stress, anxiety, joy, and other various emotions. Even for humans. He was swirling one of the ends of the tinsel in the air, as if it were a lasso, perhaps imagining using it to capture a festive holiday hog.

This time of year always brought in loads of interesting people. Fanatics who thought they were the festive spirit incarnate. Oddballs who pursued the store looking for a super niche snow globe with a surfing snowman and the caption “hot enough for ya?” Eventually, there would come the last-minute shoppers who ignored every song on the radio and all glaring signs of the imminent holidays until it was too late and ended up scrambling to throw together some half-assed attempt of merriment.

This fellow though, you’re not sure which category of shopper he belonged in.

The first time you saw him he was in the large open section of the store glaring at the Christmas trees. He would delicately touch the one covered in fake snow then tug at the branches of others. At one point he even leaned in to smell the tree he was scrutinizing.

The second time you took notice of him he was standing in the aisle designated for Christmas ornaments looking overwhelmed and confused. Every object he picked was held up to the light and contemplated thoroughly before carefully putting it back on the shelf in lieu of another. Sometimes he’d take one decoration, a hanging ornate avocado, for instance, and hold that up with other Christmas baubles as if comparing whether or not the items clashed with each other. 

Your supervisor snapped you back to attention and asked you to begin closing your till and move to work on the floor for the last half hour of your shift; a mindless, neverending job spent returning moved items back to their proper places. And occasionally helping out shoppers. 

Once the money was counted and you till swapped with another employee, you looked around to see he was still indeed in tinsel town. And since it was technically your job to help shoppers this was as good a reason as any to finally ask what his deal was. 

In much nicer terms. 

You made sure to step loudly as you approached him to make your arrival obvious, but he was regaling a string of fake popcorn with a fiery intensity and was none the wiser. 

“Well hello there,” you piped up pleasantly, trying to keep the fake out of your customer service voice, “is there anything I can help you with?”

The man, a tall skeleton monster clad in a black leather jacket with a deep red scarf hanging behind him turned to face you. His dark pants and red combat boots made the bright red of his turtleneck pop.

He sighed as he returned the popcorn garland to the shelf. “OH, IT’S YOU.”

 _Oh so we both recognize each other_ you thought. _Coolsies._

He looked back at the shelf behind as he continued. “NOT REALLY, NO. UNLESS YOU SELL GUIDES HERE.”

“Guides? Uh..” You weren't sure you heard him right. “I'm sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. What exactly are you looking for? I might -?”

He cut you off, but it came off as more exasperated than rude. “I JUST NEED TO BE TOLD HOW TO DO ALL OF THIS PROPERLY,” the skeleton explained while motioning the decorations around you. “I NEED A GUIDE, OR EVEN A MAP WILL DO, ANYTHING THAT WILL HELP ME CORRECTLY PUT ON _CHRISTMAS_.”

The word Christmas rolled off his tongue with a harsh enunciation as if it were a foreign delicacy he had just sampled that tasted like garbage. 

That was certainly not what you were expecting and you could only stand there racking your brain, unsure of what to say. 

He was looking towards the ceiling with a faraway look in his eyes and his jaw set into a scowl. “IT’S ALL SO SIMILAR, BUT STILL SO DIFFERENT. SOMETIMES IT FEELS LIKE WE’RE JUST SUPPOSED TO LEAVE IT ALL BEHIND AND MOVE ON…”

Welp, it seemed like whatever was going on needed more than just casual conjecture or a push to the right aisle.

You then had an idea, which was very unlike you.

Not the _having_ ideas part. Just the idea itself. 

You certainly didn’t make a habit out of offering to hang out with shoppers EVER, because please god no; nothing could be more painful. But your interests were piqued and he really seemed like he could use some help with something super obscure, and you happened to really enjoy the holidays. If anyone could provide some insight into Christmas it was someone who worked in retail whose brain resists turning to mush listening to Christmas carols all day. 

Plus, if you were going to casually spy on people at work you might as well get a good story out of it. 

“This is rather forward, but I’m off work pretty soon. This shopping center has a coffee shop in it. It’s called Daisy’s Coffee. And since it’s the first snowfall of the week, I’m gonna snag something special to drink. If you want to join me and talk more about how to do “Christmas right” feel free to meet me there in twentyish minutes. I’ll even buy you a drink.” You took a few steps backward to give him some more space.

He cocked a scarred brow bone at your offer but otherwise said nothing.

 _Back to silence again. Neat._ Hastily you tuned on your heels and walked back before calling out to him. “No pressure, by the way, sorry if that was weird.”

The afternoon was waning into evening as you traversed the large store and the crowds of shoppers grew bigger by the minute. Now seemed like a superb time to look busy while slowly walking to the back room before clocking out.

You wondered what the odds were of that man joining you for a drink.

* * *

Papyrus watched you leave, still perplexed by the quick offer to meet after your shift. That whole side conversation completely derailed him and now he couldn’t remember where he stood on the fake popcorn on a string. 

It was now that he noticed the once dead isle was filling with humans who were shuffling all around him, some of them snatching decorations off the shelves with such vigor as if to take them before he could. Foolish humans, as if he was even _remotely_ interested in hot pink tinsel with dangling ponies. 

Papyrus left the isle in a hurry, disappointed that he hadn’t decided what tinsel to buy but eager to leave the craft store. He still had a little bit of time before Christmas came and could find the right decorations later. 

And now that Papyrus thought about it, he was feeling rather thirsty. Maybe a drink was a good idea.

* * *

You were standing in line at the coffee shop, waiting to order your drink when you saw him, his tall figure standing out amidst the crowd of shoppers. You waved when you noticed him and he sauntered over as your spot in line moved closer to the front.

“Hey, you came.”

“IT WOULD SEEM SO,” was all he offered. 

“Do you have any drink preferences?” you asked motioning to the chalkboard of festive drinks. 

He looked at the menu board and the expression on his face was reminiscent of the one he had in the craft store. Like he was angry and lost.

“Uhh, do you like sweet things?” you offered.

“ON OCCASION.”

“Great, I got it covered then. Feel free to snag a table if you don’t want to stand around in line.” 

At your suggestion, he meandered over to a free table in the corner of the shop.

“Hi! I can help the next person in line,” came the voice of the barista.

 _Hooray, it’s me_ you thought before ordering two large drinks  
.  
When you joined him at the table he was gazing out the large windows, watching people walk by. You took this moment to really check out his face. 

He had several long cracks that ran from above his left eye down to his upper jaw. You preferred not to think about how bad that injury must have felt and whether or not if affected his vision.

His gaze shifted to you once you set down the drinks and took the seat opposite him.

You offered up your name and extended your hand at the same time. His response was hesitant, but he took your hand and shook it nonetheless. 

“MY NAME IS PAPYRUS.”

“Papyrus, it’s a pleasure. I swear I don’t normally ask strangers to join me for drinks out of the blue, but I got a gut feeling and decided to go with it. And honestly, I’m surprised you came.” 

“I LEARNED THOSE OUGHT TO BE TRUSTED,” he said before raising the cup to his mouth.

“Oh, be careful it’s hot. I’d probably give it a minute or two. You burn your tongue now and you’ll be without decent flavour for at least a day.” 

“NO TONGUE TO BURN,” he replied before taking a sip. “THIS IS SURPRISINGLY GOOD,” he concluded, going back for another sip. “WHAT IS IT?”

You were impressed at his ability to dive into a still steaming drink but kept that to yourself. “Mmm, it’s ok. Good enough snag after work, but mine is way better. And what you’re drinking is called a chaider. ”

“CHAIDER? YOU MAKE THESE YOURSELF?”

“Yup. It’s a tradition that I do every year. I make a giant batch of the best apple cider you’ve ever tasted, and the first snowfall of the week I mix that cider with a chai latte for a warm drink. So good.”

“WHY?”

“Why is it good? Sugar, duh.”

“NO,” he grunted in indignation. “I GET THAT. WHY DO YOU DO IT? THE FIRST SNOWFALL THING?

“Oh.” That was a great question, and one you never considered all that much. “As I said, it’s a tradition and traditions are fun, I guess. It’s something I look forward to. I mean I can make this drink any time of the year whenever I want, but then it wouldn't be as special.”

Papyrus looked back over to the menu board at the cafe. “CHRISTMAS BEVERAGES ARE JUST AS INFURIATING TO NAVIGATE AS ANYTHING ELSE TO DO WITH THIS WRETCHED TIME OF YEAR. ALL THE DRINKS ARE CONFUSING. I MEAN WHAT IN THE HELL IS A MOCHA-MINTA-CCINO WITH ROOM FOR SANTA?"

You couldn’t hold back an ugly snort as you rubbed the back of your neck. It was so true. Latte season was pretty much a culture all of its own. 

“You’ve got a point about the drinks. But regarding the holiday in question, if you ask a hundred random people what the meaning of Christmas is, you’d get a hundred different answers. Some of which include ‘what the heck is a Christmas,” and “enough turkey and white noise to pass out before the inlaws leave.”

Papyrus nodded before taking another sip. “WE MONSTERS HAVE SOMETHING SIMILAR, YOU KNOW? TO CHRISTMAS. AT LEAST AESTHETICALLY. IT’S CALLED GYFTMAS.”

“Unsurprisingly I’ve never heard of it. Tell me more.”

“IT STARTED AS AN APOLOGY TO GYFTROT. SOME JERKY TEENAGERS WOULD TEASE AND TORMENT ONE OF THE OTHER MONSTERS. THEY WOULD HANG ALL SORTS OF GARBAGE OFF OF HIS HORNS.” Papyrus met your gaze but you sat there quietly, nodding for him to continue. 

“HE COULDN’T REMOVE THE TRASH ON HIS OWN AND IT WOULD OBSTRUCT HIS VISION. IT WASN’T UNCOMMON FOR HIM TO GET HURT WHEN HE’S ACCIDENTALLY FALL INTO PUZZLES. MOST PEOPLE THOUGHT IT WAS HUMOROUS AND SOME EVEN LOOKED FORWARD TO SEEING WHAT TROUBLE HE'D FIND HIMSELF IN. THEN ONE DAY HE BECAME GRIEVOUSLY WOUNDED. PEOPLE WERE NOT SURE IF HE WAS GOING TO MAKE IT.”

You tried your best to keep the shocked expression off your face. “That’s awful.”. 

Papyrus nodded. “LUCKILY HE SURVIVED HIS INJURIES. AND IT’S STRANGE BECAUSE NORMALLY SOMEONE LIKE HIM JUST WOULDN’T LAST WHERE I’M FROM. IN THE BEGINNING, GYFTROT WAS KEPT AROUND FOR A LAUGH, THE JOKE OF THE TOWN. BUT THEN PEOPLE JUST AGREED TO LEAVE HIM ALONE AFTER THE LAST TIME HE GOT HURT. NOT LONG AFTER SOMEONE HAD AN IDEA OF PUTTING UP A TREE IN THE CENTER OF TOWN AND THEY DECORATED IT WITH THE SAME TRASH THAT THE KIDS WOULD PUT ON HIS HORNS.”

Around you, the cafe filled with more and more people, and the din of the mall seeped past its doors. Papyrus continued unaware of the shouts of excited friends and the clatter of a metal tray falling to the ground. 

“AND THEN PEOPLE STARTED TO ANONYMOUSLY LEAVE PRESENTS UNDER THE TREE TO MAKE HIM FEEL BETTER. OR MAYBE TO MAKE THEMSELVES FEEL BETTER. I’M NOT SURE. THE SENTIMENT SPREAD TO THE REST OF THE UNDERGROUND AND BECAME WIDELY CELEBRATED.”

“And you?”

“WHAT ABOUT ME, HUMAN?”

“Were you a jerky teenager?”

Papyrus laughed and shook his head. His laugh wasn’t loud, it was breathy and soft. Sounding more like panting than your typical laugh. “I SUPPOSE I WAS AT TIMES, BUT NOT TO ANY GYFTROT. THE INCEPTION OF GYFTMAS WAS BEFORE MY TIME. ANYWAYS, GYFTMAS WAS, IN ESSENCE, A TIME FOR APOLOGIES. IT SYMBOLIZES FORGIVENESS AND MOVING ON, WHICH WAS A STRANGE THING TO ACKNOWLEDGE WHERE I’M FROM. ONCE IT WAS OVER THE TOWN WOULD GO BACK TO THE WAY IT WAS, BUT THAT TIME OF YEAR WAS ALWAYS A SYMBOL OF HOPE FOR ME. PROOF THAT PEOPLE WERE ALWAYS CAPABLE OF DOING BETTER.”

“Wow,” you sighed. Looking down into your steaming cup. “I don't even have the words to express how important that sounds. I hope Hallmark doesn't hear that and run with it, making a profit out of something so… paramount to monsters.” 

The concerned look was back to his face. “WAIT, WHAT IN ASGORE’S NAME IS A HALLMARK?”

“Don’t worry about it. Moving on, I think you’re making the holidays more complicated than you need to. There is no right or wrong way. If you want to partake in Christmas this year just make it about spending time with the people you love and the rest will come. For me, Christmas is about traditions, not some immaculate birth or the shiniest decorations to ever grace the world. Spend some quality time with your family, and your own traditions will sort themselves out. 

He sat in quiet contemplation of your words for a long time, and you didn’t feel the need to interrupt his thoughts. 

“YOU MAY BE RIGHT. I JUST WANT THIS YEAR TO BE DIFFERENT. TO BE NICER THAN IT WAS LAST TIME. AND I SUPPOSED, TO MAKE THOSE TRADITIONS YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT.”

“Right, the ascension was in September, wasn't it? Not a lot of time to get monsters safe and settled before blasting them with annoying human media for months on end about _the most wonderful time of the year._ ”

Papyrus settled back into his seat, continuing to people-watch from the window but for the first time seemed genuinely at ease. Still contemplative, but content. 

“I propose a toast,” you proclaimed, grabbing your cup and lifting it in the air. “To your new Gyftmas tradition of drinking chaiders when it snows.”

The look Papyrus gave you was strange, but it soon melted into warmth as rolled his eyes and gently tapped his cup to yours before drinking to the sentiment. 

Papyrus seemed grateful when the two of you parted ways, and certainly in better spirits than he was back in the craft store. You learned he had a brother who was normally a layabout but was now too busy with a new job to fuss over the holidays. That’s why Papyrus felt it fell to him to make this time of year special. 

The both of you exchanged numbers so you could send him the recipe for your Chaider since he agreed that a special hot drink sounded like a nice start to his new family traditions. 

It was then, with a shy smile that Papyrus suggested you enter him in your phone as Edge.

* * *

You saw Edge three days later when he marched into the craft store and demanded you help him out after your shift. It was amusing, the severe intent with which he stormed in and the intense scowl on his face as he laid eyes on you. People rushed to get out of his way as he stomped into the checkout line...

Only to wait patiently for seven minutes (the line was huge) before he could finally approach you and explain that he hadn't been able to come up with any new tradition ideas and he wanted more of your input. He told you to meet him at Daisy’s and left the store in the same irritable fashion as he entered

You thought to yourself that this smelled like something that could have been sent in a text message, but this was way funnier.

This time when you met up you got your drinks to go and set off walking aimlessly around the mall. 

Do you have a favourite Giftmas _thing_ that we could work off of? You asked. “Me for example, I’m a sucker for holiday sweaters. I like the patterns, the iconic looks, the jokes that can be subtly woven into the fabric. If could wear them to work I would.”

Edge was quiet as he thought about what you asked, stopping for a moment before answering. “I DID HAVE KNITTED A TOQUE THAT I GOT ONE GYFTMAS. IT WAS ON MY FAVOURITE THINGS THAT I OWNED. NOT THAT I COULD WEAR IT ALL THAT OFTEN.”

You noticed the presence of past tense and thought carefully about asking. “Did it fall apart, or?”

Edge’s eyes glazed over as he was taken back to a memory of the holidays last year. It was the first Christmas the brothers would experience on the surface and all Edge managed to do for the holidays was buy some last-minute gifts with what little allowance they received from the government.

After a long day of trying to find the right gifts for his brother in a Christmas-centri city, he was on the bullet train home. The crowd on the train was insufferable and he had to carefully balance the tower of his purchased gifts. They swayed precariously in his arms and an old lady gave him the stink eye with each bump on the tracks, scooching farther into the seat railing in a sad attempt to put garner some distance.

It was suffocating, and hot, and humans everywhere were sneezing and sniffling, and the quiet that came from tons of people packed together but desperately ignoring each other was deafening in its own right and he had to get out! Edge squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could will himself away like a magic trick when finally, _finally_ the familiar name of his stop rang out. 

He had to fight desperately through the crowd and push his way semi-apologetically to the doors. A mantra of angry ‘excuse mes’ and snarky ‘so sorrys’ played out as he moved miserably to the exit, slowed by the burden of his shopping and grumpy humans. 

As he stepped off the train Edge sucked in the cool air, relishing how refreshing it felt when he realized that the top of his head was colder than he expected. Edge turned around to see that the sliding door of the train had closed on the pompom of his favourite tuque, and could only watch helplessly as it rode off into the night, before disappearing into the darkness. 

You were hesitant to pull Edge from his thoughts, the expression on his face grew tight. But since you had him here you might as well pick his brain a little more. “Who gave it to you?” 

“A LADY BACK IN SNOWDIN. SHE RAN A STORE THERE THAT SOLD OLD CLOTHES AND OTHER ODDS AND ENDS THAT SHE’D FIND AT THE DUMP AND FIX UP.” Edge's smile was slight but genuine. “WHEN I WAS YOUNGER I STOLE A BLANKET FROM HER SHOP. I COULD HAVE SWORN SHE HAD NO CLUE. IT WAS THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. ANYWAYS, SHE DID KNOW, AND WHERE I GREW UP… YOU DON’T USUALLY GET A FREE PASS WHEN IT COMES TO THEFT. IT COSTS YOU.”

“I’ve heard stories of what the Underground was like, but I can’t even begin to imagine.” It’s true that when monsters came to the surface, most were well-meaning and willing to try and adjust to the new world order. They were simply happy to be free and agreed to blindly follow their King’s decree of ‘behave or else.’ 

Still, there were others who found that too hard a pill to swallow and remained locked up for everybody’s safety. Edge didn’t seem to notice or care about your solemn mood. 

“LUCKILY I WAS STILL IN STRIPES, BUT I DID OFFER TO PAY HER BACK. IN THE END, I HAD TO KEEP AND EYE OUT FOR ANY SALVAGEABLE GOODS TO BRING BACK TO HER SHOP. AND ONCE SHE DEEMED THAT I HAD PAID BACK WHAT I OWED IN FULL, THAT WAS THE END OF IT. MY FIRST GYFTMAS OUT OF STRIPES SHE GAVE ME A TOQUE, ONLY THIS ONE WASN’T SALVAGED. IT WAS SOMETHING SHE MADE FROM SCRATCH AFTER FINDING A LARGE BALL OF YARN THAT SHE SAID WAS ‘MY COLOUR.’ WHEN I ASKED HER WHY SHE JUST WAVED ME OFF AND SAID SOMETHING ABOUT THE SPIRIT OF GYFTMAS AND BYGONES BEING BYGONES.”

"She sounds lovely," you interjected, "and like she cares a lot about you." 

“She was, and I think she did.” Edge replied quietly. This was the first time you’d ever heard him talk in anything close to a whisper. And unlike the past tense regarding his toque, this time you were unwilling to press the story any further. 

You felt a sadness for the woman you'd never meet and tried to steer the conversation back to something hopefully more positive. “Is there something that objectively you really like? Take away all the nuance of festivities or holidays. Just a thing you like to do or eat or watch?"

“WELL, THERE IS ONE THING. IT’S FIREWORKS.”

“Oh really?”

“YES, OUR FIRST SUMMER ABOVE GROUND WAS WHEN I SAW THEM. THEY WERE BRIGHT AND LOUD AND INTENSE AND THEY HONESTLY REMINDED ME A LITTLE BIT OF MY BROTHER.” Edge sighed as he tossed his now empty cup into a rubbish bin. “BUT HE HATED THEM. SAID THEY WERE PRETTY AND POINTLESS AND THEREFORE UNNECESSARY. THE STRANGEST THING WAS THAT HE WAS RIGHT. HIS ASSESSMENT SOUNDED LIKE SOMETHING I SHOULD HAVE AGREED WITH AND YET, I COULDN'T BRING MYSELF TO HATE THEM.” 

“I like fireworks,” you offered, “and that gives me another idea for another Gyftmas tradition you can start. Why don’t we get some Roman candles and shoot them at each other? Then when we shoot each other's eyes out your brother would REALLY have a reason to hate them. And we’d have something to forgive each other about.”

“THOUGH I ADMIRE THE AMOUNT OF THOUGHT WHICH YOU’VE GIVEN IT, I’M GOING TO GO AGAINST MY BETTER JUDGMENT AND PASS.”

“Well, lots of people bake for the holidays. Why don’t we try that?”

“INGENIOUS IDEA! FOOD IS A HUGE PART OF FAMILY TRADITIONS. WE’LL COMMENCE THE BAKING AT MY HOUSE, NEXT WEEK HUMAN. PREPARE YOURSELF UNTIL THEN!”

* * *

The week had flown by in a blur of colours and exchanged money and most of your days had been spent talking to Edge in some form or another. He had already come in and raided your store’s baking supplies, buying little snowmen molds and mistletoe sprinkles.

Absentmindedly you thought about teaching Edge about mistletoe but decided against it. He already thought humans were weird as it was. No need to add makeout-plant to the list of things humans had this time of year. 

It was later in the evening when you got off work and drove over to Edge’s house. He was going to be late coming home from the grocery store but you were free to go in without him. There was a spare key taped to the bottom of the third porch step that you could use to let yourself in.

You fully intend to head straight for the kitchen to preheat the oven once you let yourself inside, but there was loud thumping coming from the upstairs and you wanted to make your presence known if Sans was indeed home.

You and Sans had already met a handful of times prior to this baking day, so you were fairly certain there would be no metaphorical hell to pay for being caught inside his house without his brother.

You quietly ascended and shuffled over to their computer room to find Sans hunched over a large black garbage bag and hastily stuffing packets of what looked to be brightly coloured sticks and rockets. _What the… Are those -_

“Hey Sans, whatcha got there?” You asked, unable to keep the suspicious tone from your voice. 

Sans yelped and turned to face you, his hand glowing with summoned magic for a split second before hastily being swished away. If he was annoyed by the scare it was overshadowed by his guilty look and the fact that he wouldn’t make eye contact with you. 

“freaking starts above. welcome to my home, so nice of ya to not bother knocking at the door.” Now it was your turn to look guilty. “‘n these are nothing for ya to concern yourself with."

“Hmm, those look like fireworks to me.”

“ya, we’ll to the untrained eye these may seem like fireworks,” Sans explained as he hastily tied the scrunched up ends of the bag into a knot, “but i’m afraid you are mistaken and these are simply novelty candles.” 

“Purchased for..?”

“the _novelty_ , obviously. what are ya a cop? get off my back,” he spat out while hastily pushing past you to stand in the hallway. “is my brother here?” 

“Not yet,” you informed, “he’s on his way.” 

Sans eyed you suspiciously and looked like he wanted to say something more about that, but thought better of it. “papyrus tells me you might be joining us for the holidays this year. that true?”

“What? No, he hasn't mentioned anything to me about it? But I certainly wouldn't be opposed. I mean the more the merrier, right?”

“see i’d agree witcha, but then we’d both be wrong. at any rate, it makes no difference to me if you join us or not. just try and act surprised if he does ask, will ya?” Sans requested while storming off down the stairs and into their attached garage. The door slammed shut behind him.

_What a delightful man baby he is._

* * *

As it turns out, Edge was a terrible baker, which wasn’t great because you were no Betty Crocker yourself. His enthusiasm when you suggested baking as a holiday tradition to start lead you to believe he’d be taking the helm on this one, and quite expertly at that. The way he talked about his cooking skills, you thought he must have been on another level. 

But you were wrong. Instead, your time spent together involved pursuing youtube tutorials and coating his kitchen in a generous amount of flour - the tricky bag wouldn’t open nicely, and when you two finally pried it open flour shot out in a plume of pre-gluten. 

You made batch upon batch of cookies that existed anywhere on the spectrum of rock hard to practically melted butter and sugar. But you did come out of it with a single wicked batch of shortbread cookies that you were both happy to add to your growing list of holiday traditions. 

And for a moment, sitting at the table watching Edge watch the cookies in the oven, you were so thankful at your past self for offering to buy this grumpy, sharp man a drink. You even forgot to be sad that he hadn’t said a peep about joining them for the holidays.

When Sans eventually came into the kitchen that night he paused, looked to the floor covered in cookie guts, back to the both of you, _also_ covered in cookie guts, then back to the floor before shaking his head and grabbing a six-pack from the fridge. He didn’t make an encore appearance for the rest of the evening.

* * *

Christmas was a day away when Edge called on you yet again to help him out with putting the finishing touches on their tree. You suggested the two of you go to a Good Will for decorations instead of an outlet craft store. Easier on the wallet and the mall this close to Christmas was insane. 

This was the last time you’d be collecting any Christmas decorations before the big day and Edge had left Sans to finish putting up the string light on their house.

“IT’S ONLY OCCURED TO ME NOW, BUT I HAVEN'T ASKED YOU WHAT YOU WILL BE DOING THIS YEAR FOR THE HOLIDAYS. DO YOU GO SOMEWHERE? IS YOU FAMILY IN THE CITY?”

“No,” you said while pushing the belly of a dancing and singing electronic Santa toy for the umpteenth time before Edge grabbed in annoyance and put it high on a shelf that you couldn’t reach. “My family lives quite a ways away. I occasionally fly out at Christmas to see them. Usually every other year. This is the ‘other year’ where I do my shopping online and have it shipped to my parent’s place. Saves me almost a grand on travel expenses.” 

Edge thought about that for a minute. “YOU MUST MISS THEM THOUGH.”

“I do but not enough to be sad about it. The fact is I can’t afford to make the trip out there multiple times a year. I’ll see them this summer, and then go out there next Christmas most likely.”

Edge started to fiddle with a plastic knickknack in that grumpy way he would anytime he was about to ask you for a favour. “I HAVE A PROPOSITION FOR YOU. HOW WOULD YOU FEEL ABOUT SPENDING YOUR CHRISTMAS WITH ME AND MY BROTHER. I KNOW _HIS_ COMPANY IS LESS THAN IDEAL BUT-”

 _And there it is_ you thought, as Edge continued to blather on about the pros of joining them for the holidays despite his brother’s many flaws. Sans had tipped you off about it earlier, but it still caught you off guard and a feeling of joy blossomed in your chest. 

“Edge,” you called out, stopping his rant about where Sans would leave his socks. “I would be delighted to spend _Gyftmas_ with you and your brother.” You made sure to emphasize the word Gyftmas, since that was the holiday that was important to him, and he shouldn’t have to disguise it as Christmas for your sake. “I’ll bring that horrid marshmallow yam dish that is awful but you’d probably love because you end up liking the strangest things and it always throws me off.” 

“IT’S IMPORTANT TO BE UNPREDICTABLE IN A FIGHT!” he explained, taking a widened stance and brandishing the plastic toy like a weapon. “AND THOSE MELTED COOKIES WERE NOT BAD. YOU JUST REFUSE TO SHOW ANY SENSE OF GOOD TASTE AND TRY THEM.”

You laughed, nudging your elbow against the toy, and resisted the urge to reach out for his hand. 

“AND I KNEW YOU’D SAY YES TO SPENDING TIME WITH ME, IT WAS ONLY A MATTER OF IF MY WRETCHED BROTHER WOULD PUT YOU OFF OF THE IDEA.”

For being a confident guy, it was rather fleeting at times. The rest of the day was spent indulging his horrid taste in decor and buying an excessive amount of little nutcracker men.

* * *

Gyftmas came in a flurry of snow and songs and it indeed was merry and bright. 

When you drove over to their place on Gyftmas evening the Christmas lights had not in fact been adorned on the house and instead had been left in a large clump on the lawn with a wooden sign that said: screw it. You were beginning to question which of the two brothers were indeed more chaotic. 

The three of you settled in the living room by the Gyftmas tree (which was decorated in various colourful baubles, but also in old candy bar wrappers) giving gifts and apologizing for past grievances with each parcel exchanged. It was you who cast the first sorry stone of the night, gifting both brothers a silly kitchen apron.

Both the look on your face and your tone was very sullen. “I’m sorry. I'm so sorry on behalf of my race... for Taylor Swift’s Santa Baby. And every rendition of Santa Baby that has come before it.”

“IT’S ABOUT DAMN TIME SOMEONE APOLOGISED FOR THAT.” Edge said while tearing into the wrapping paper with his sharp claws and revealing an apron that simply said “Kitchen God.”

Sans shot you a lazy finger gun at his “Give Peas a Chance’ apron before using his foot to slide a long box towards Edge. “I’m sorry about the string light’s bro. I tried to untangle them and gave up.”

Edge took the gift in hand and tore into the box revealing a shoehorn and a tin of leather boot polish. “That’s ok brother, I forgive you.” 

“Sans,” you began while offering up a wrapped box of popcorn, “I’m sorry you had to eat all of the failed cookie attempts.” 

“Eh, I forgive ya.”

“Though I don't know why you didn’t just toss them…”

“waste not want not kid.”

“Emphasis on the _want_ , if you ask me.” 

Sans cleared this throat before tossing you a small wrapped box that had a chocolate orange inside. “I’m sorry you’ve had to spend so much time babysitting my baby bro.” 

“I forgive... Wait,” you paused, looking towards Edge. For some reason, you thought Sans was the younger of the two.

“YES SANS, WAIT. THAT’S PRECISELY WHAT I WAS GOING TO ASK THE HUMAN FORGIVENESS FOR BUT REGARDING HOW MUCH TIME THEY’VE SPENT WITH _YOU_. 

The room erupted in laughter. Being here wasn't all that unlike spending the holidays with your family, and spending time with Edge was something you really looked forward to. 

After presents were exchanged the night continued on with copious amounts of spaghetti and cookies and watching the Metatton holi-slay special on tv.

It was getting late into the evening when Sans had conked out on the loveseat, snoring gently as the credits rolled for another Mettaton classic. 

“THIS IS HAS BEEN A RATHER PLEASANT HUMAN. BUT I WONDER, CAN I ASK YOUR HELP MAKING ONE MORE TRADITION?”

“What? Edge, how was this not perfect already?” you asked quietly. 

A scowl appeared on his face and you had to remember that somewhere along the way you learned that Edge had a hard time asking for help. “PLEASE?”

“Ok, just one more tradition,” you laughed. “Lay it on me.” 

Edge smiled and rose up from his spot on the sofa and motioned for you to stand as well. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his pants looking down sheepishly at his feet.

“I SUPPOSE I SHOULD BE HONEST, IT’S LESS OF A TRADITION AND MORE OF AN -” 

The sound of people shouting outside derailed his thoughts and you both focused your attention outside the window. The bang of what sounded like gunshots could be heard inside the house. 

“What’s going on?” 

“PEOPLE ARE AMASSING IN THE STREET FOR SOME REASON. THERE MIGHT BE DANGER. STAY HERE, I’LL CHECK IT OUT.”

Despite his request for you to stay behind you quickly donned your winter coat and boots before following him outside. Three loud wayward bangs erupted from the sky and you turned your attention up in time to see it light up with three red sparks of colour. Someone was setting off fireworks.

You looked over to the brother’s front porch to find a very smug-looking Sans, suddenly awake and standing in the doorway. He was gazing at his claws as if inspecting them for dirt. 

“Come out here!” one of the neighbours shouted across the street. “The Dog clan’s kids got their hands on some fireworks. Isn't that awesome?” 

A collective cheer from the neighbourhood monsters rose up as more fireworks sounded with an ear-piercing screech before exploding in a mass of colour.

When you caught up to Edge he was entranced with the light show in the sky, unable to take his eyes off of it. You stood there beside him resting your head against his arm as you watched the show. 

After a few minutes, you taped his shoulder to get his attention. “Hey, Edge? About that ‘non’ tradition?”

“OH, YES.” Edge turned to face you, swaying slowly from foot to foot. “I WAS WONDERING IF MAYBE YOU LIKE TO MAKE TODAY A -” Edge hesitated, looking back to the sky before taking a deep breath. It didn’t take long to find his courage. “AN ANNIVERSARY AS WELL?”

_BOOM BANG WHOOSH_

His face lit up with a flash of colours from the fireworks but a soft red glow stayed, even after those in the night sky faded. 

This was as good as time as any you thought, quickly pulling out from your coat pocket the last of Edge’s gifts; a mangled red toque you had attempted to knit for the skeleton. You stepped up on your tippy-toes so you could pull it down onto his skull and over his eye. In his confusion you reached to cup his cheeks in your hands, pulling him closer to your level. 

“Happy Gyftmas Edge,” you whispered before pulling him in for a kiss.

The final gift of the evening was him returning the kiss.

fin

**Author's Note:**

> I ho ho hope you enjoyed the story! It was a wonderful prompt and such a blast to write.


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